


Advanced Algebra 2 Honors and Running on a Healing Ankle

by 9oSpades



Category: The Maze Runner RPF, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, hella gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-22
Updated: 2014-09-22
Packaged: 2018-02-18 10:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2345228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9oSpades/pseuds/9oSpades
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Thomas is new to Gladeland High School, where everyone plays at least one sport or cooks and sews in their spare time. Also where Thomas literally has no idea what the teacher’s talking about, and Newt does (although nobody knows that)</p>
<p>Also, Frycook's spagehtti is to die for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Advanced Algebra 2 Honors and Running on a Healing Ankle

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, this was posted orginally on my tumblr (mcallmescotty) and if you want to send in a prompt, i would love you forever literally any ship and lots o angst.

It’s been about a month since Thomas Green began studying at Gladeland High School. as a sophomore who was somehow thrown into Advanced Algebra 2 Honors, when he nearly failed Algebra 1. It should be noted, if you hadn’t already known, that there was supposed to be a year of Geometry in between this.

You see, the school board demanded at least a month and a half of these classes before they accepted forms to switch classes. So he was stuck there, with many Juniors surrounding him.

Gladeland’s very messed up board wasn’t the only thing he was baffled by. The school’s outrageous spirit was something to be noted. Everyone had either a sporty talent or a food-related talent. Everyone attended all games, whether or not they liked the sport. The food-related talents catered.

And Thomas seemed to land himself smack in the middle of it all.

As far as he knew, talentless.

"Are you gonna just lay there all day?" a voice asked from behind him. He looked up to see the odd bunch that pitied him enough to adopt him into their little mix. There was Teresa and Gally, two wrestlers, along with Chuck and Frycook, who both seemed to adore food. Chuck in growing it, Frycook in boiling it. Everyone in eating it.

"My ankle’s healing, what do you expect?" Thomas had snapped without any heat behind it. On the first day, he’d been running on the track for about seven second before his foot went down wrong, and he’d sprained his ankle. So he’d been sitting on the benches for the past month, while everyone else trained physically for whatever their talent was.

"It should be good now." Gally replied, a tad condescendingly. He huffed, and Teresa elbowed the other’s chest.

"It’s been a month!" he defended, throwing his hands up. Frycook shook his head, taking a spot beside Thomas.

"Let Greenie here rest up a bit. Coach says he’s got another week until the doctors say he can work again." the cook replied, using the nickname his last name gave him. Gally huffed, turning to run another lap.

"Shuck face" Teresa called after him. He waved a hand over his shoulder, making the girl chuckle.

"How’s your math class?" Chuck asked, a smile etched onto his round face. Thomas replied only in a groan. Frycook offered a small pat on the back for reassurance.

"I’ll help you out, Greenie. Give me a day." and with that, the cook walked out of the gym silently, to which the coach shrugged to. Thomas made a face. What the hell was up with this school?

{~}

It happened the next day, as he sat in Algebra 2 staring blankly at the expression before him. He sat alone in the corner of the classroom, so that his embarrassment could be kept a secret. He’d been tentatively tapping into his calculator when a desk was shoved against his own, making him jump as he looked up to see a Junior with yellow locks of hair against pale skin, unfairly attractive as he looked down at the sad scrawling on his worksheet.

"That’s not even the correct formula, ya bugger." he spoke, his foreign accent giving no introduction or explanation to his arrival.

Thomas realized that he should probably respond, but he just stared incredulously at the older boy in front of him until his stare was returned.

"Frycook said that you needed help, and that if I did I could have his spaghetti for free at every game ‘til I graduate." he explained, blinking like he realized that this was a ridiculous way to introduce oneself, and immediately mended it.

"I’m Newt, by the way. Alby, Minho, and I run most of the events." he introduced himself, sticking a hand out. Thomas blinked a few times before he responded, shaking the upperclass man’s Newt’s hand.

"Thomas." he replied. He felt a bit self conscious about how he didn’t have a title to put next to his name like everyone else. He shrugged it off, though, and released his grip o the other boy’s hand.

"So, what exactly is happening?"

"I’m your tutor, til you can learn how to add two plus negative two." Newt answered as he scribbled down an address next to his name. He reached out to punch Thomas’s arm as he stood, pulling the desk back to its original place.

"Be there at four today, Greenie." Newt’s lips curled a bit at the corners as he said the nickname that had been spreading around the school, turning back to where two other boys sat. The three of them laughed as he sat back down, and he shook his head. What the hell was up with this school?

{~}

The doorbell rang rather loudly as he stood there quietly, book bag on is shoulder as he stood there, leaning on his better foot until the door opened, showing an teen that was definitely not the blond haired boy who was his tutor. He was Asian, tall and muscled as he gave Thomas a once over. The Sophomore swallowed, stammering out an explanation.

"Uh, sorry, I think I’m at the wrong " he began, red tinting his cheeks because was this all a prank why would they do this oh my gosh. But the teen stopped him mid sentence, an eyebrow raised.

"Thomas, right?" he asked, not even waiting for an answer as he turned around and shouted. "Newt! Your boyfriend’s here, go get your bouquet and tux on already."

"Shut up ya shuck-face!" came a shouted reply, but within moments the other teen was shoved away by Newt, who’s hair was damp and looked wore a sweater despite it being just above seventy degrees. He gave an apologetic smile, opening the screen door to let the younger teen in.A low whistle sounded from behind him.

"Look at you two buggers, standing side by side. Can’t wait for the prom pictures to come out." the other teen continued, a grin forming on his face. Thomas felt a bit of blood rush to his ears, just as Newt opened his mouth to make some remark in retaliation, a voice sounded from the living room.

"Minho, leave the kid alone." he called. Minho snorted, sending Thomas a wink as Newt let out a groan behind him.

"Don’t mind him, he’s like that with everyone to come around here. My room’s over here." Newt said casually as he opened a door into a smallish room, with a twin sized mattress on the ground, a dresser, and a bookshelf all neatly in their own corner. Newt sat down, pulling a textbook from the bookshelf and flipping it open.

"Alright, we’re gonna start with lesson one." Newt began, crossing his legs and pulling out a piece of notebook paper. Thomas followed suit, listening intently as he explained the basics of the mathematics, all the way down to the adding and subtracting bits. The two of them spent hours sitting there, the tension of not knowing each other fading at a steady rate. Eventually, when it got dark, Thomas took his leave. Newt snorted as Minho bumped their shoulder together, closing the doors only when the Sophomore was out of sight. Alby raised an eyebrow from his spot on the couch.

"What?" Newt responded stubbornly. "I don’t want the bugger to get hit by a car, that’s all."

"Housewife." Minho snorted from his spot on the couch. The youngest of the three shook his head, sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

"Bloody Greenie." he muttered underneath his breath, a small grin stretching over his face. The two boys behind made sure to keep quiet.

{~}

The tutoring became a regular thing between the two of them. Thomas’s grade increased, and Newt did something besides lay around his room all day. Thomas would show up right after Newt took a shower, Minho would tease relentlessly, and Alby would sometimes come over to chat.

Although when he told his friends, they seemed a bit shocked.

"Newt?" Chuck sounded surprised. "He’s teaching you?"

"Yeah, what of it?" Thomas questioned, curiosity bubbling in him.

"Nothing, it’s just " Teresa began. "He hasn’t really been motivated since he shucked up his knee last year."

And so they told him about how he’d been on the cross-country team, and how he’d one day been walking down the hallway when he’d tripped, causing him to screw up his knee and ankle pretty bad. Supposedly, he’d been far happy as he’d been before.

Later that day, when he sat with the older boy, he’d been uncharacteristically silent. Reading over notes, eating the pb&j quietly as he tried to give Newt some space, thinking about how he could help (and completely oblivious to the fact that he was helping by talking) to the point where Newt tossed his textbook to the side, staring a surprised Thomas down.

"What the shuck is up with you, Greenie?" he demanded, lips frowning.

"What?" was all the stumbled out of Thomas’s mouth as he settled his book to the side. Newt only sighed.

"You’ve barely said a word this entire time, Tommy, and your usually running your mouth laps by now. What’s up?"

And it was at that moment that Thomas realized that it had to be love. Honestly, even time Minho even mention the possibility between the two of them, he turned red as hell. He’d like to watch the left over droplets from the teen’s shower travel down his long neck and get soaked into the fabric of his shirt. He stared at him longer than he should when he explained math. It cut deeper than a crush. It had to be love.

"Nothing." he replied quickly, blinking away the haze that set over his eyes. "I’m fine, alright?" he tried to reassure the boy, but he seemed to get more irate.

"Look, I know it’s about me. Just bloody say it." he hissed out, taking Thomas by surprise.

"No, dude, it’s got nothing to do with you. Calm down." Thomas tried, but his friend just got even more frustrated.

"Someone went and spilled to you about my bloody leg, right? Told you that I did it on purpose, that I did it for attention. Or did you just guess that?" the older teen stood, face angry and upset. Thomas scrambled to his feet, feeling a distant thrum of fear inside.

"No, Newt, I didn’t even think " he tried. But Newt just let out a humourless laugh.

"Exactly, mate. You don’t think, that’s why you’re bloody here, isn’t it?” he spat. Thomas blinked, feeling a rush of frustration rush over himself.

"What the hell’s wrong with you?" he shouted in return.

"I bloody fuck up a few years ago, you shuck!" he yelled, a hand shoving Thomas back a step. Thomas stumbled back a step, and shoved back even harder without thinking. The older boy toppled over, his bad leg hitting the wall next to him. Within a second, the anger was gone as he knelled down next to the boy.

"Shit, sorry Newt." he apologized, but his eyes were met with the same anger as before.

"I messed up my bloody knee to become talentless." he hissed. "What’s your excuse?"

Thomas stared at his friend (if they were that anymore) in shock. The shocked expression was returned as the blond pushed himself upright, reaching out for the younger boy.

"Thomas, Tommy." he begged as the brunet slung the bag over his shoulder and walked out the room. He saw Minho and Alby standing up, looking equally upset and uncomfortable with the situation.

"Look, Thomas, you’ve got to hear us out on this one." Minho tried, but he shook his head.

"I don’t want to hear it. I really don’t." and he walked out the door, eyes turning red as he angrily swiped at his eyes. Yeah, it was definitely love.

{~}

It was two weeks passed the incident. Thomas stopped coming over, that bit was simple. What was hard was having to sit through class, knowing that the Junior was staring at him. Whenever he looked, though, the eyes snapped back to the teacher. Newt was far too stubborn to apologize, not like the way someone should in this situation. He would watch Thomas, pleading only with his eyes for forgiveness. But Thomas was stubborn, too. So he ignored the stares, instead turning to talk to another kid in the class, Ben. The stares would stop.

It seemed that was the only problem of his, though.

His ankle healed slower than it should of, but Gally seemed to be aching to race the boy. Everyday, during gym, he’d ask the same question.

"You gonna race yet?"

And Thomas would always say no, and Gally would always insult him in one way or another. But today, Gally seemed hellbent on a race.

"Bloody Greenie, come on." he whined. "I’ll do whatever you want if you win. C’mon Tommy."

It was with the nicknames that Thomas grit his teeth, standing up.

"If I win, no more nicknames. Just Thomas, right?" he set, regretting it immediately. Gally nodded, a toothy grin plastered on his face. The others looked up, taking interest in the race. Gally rolled his shoulders.

"Alright, Tommy. Three, two, one, go!"

And they both ran, as fast as they could, around the quarter mile track. Gally ran ahead with ease, but only by a few feet. Talentless. Shucking show Newt who’s talentless, thought Thomas.

With the anger from that evening burning through him, he pushed himself further, passing Gally on the last bend. He heard the others cheer for him as he kept running, running, running. A grin splayed across his face, because he loved it.

Snap!

And that’s where it stopped, because his weak ankle gave just as he passed the finish line. He cried out, falling forward and scratching his face and his hands as he gripped his ankle. Teresa got to him first, shouting for Chuck to get the nurse. Gally stood there, a bit shocked at it all, as Frycook pulled him onto the benches. They pulled off his shoe. His ankle was twisted the wrong way.

He was told that his scream was loud enough that the entire school ran to their windows and doors to watch as Teresa muffled his shouts with a rag until the nurse came over with a wheelchair. They also say its the fastest Newt has run in two years.

Thomas kept his eyes shut the entire time as the nurse set his ankle, binding it up quickly. The group went to the principal’s office to report, and the nurse left for lunch. He kept his eyes shut even as a ruffled looking blond slid inside, closing the door softly behind him.

"Blood hurts, don’t it?" he remarked, face pale. Thomas opened his eyes, saying nothing. They stared each other down until Newt sat in the cot beside him, looking away for once.

"It was the anniversary of when I messed up my leg, by the way." Newt said, a bit quietly. "The whole day, people were quiet and acted strange around me. I was fed up with it, and I took it out on you."

They stayed quiet for a few moments, as Thomas took his turn to stare at Newt.

"It’s alright, then." he mumbled in reply. Newt laughed, shaking his head and standing up.

"Bloody great, that’s out of the way. Now, what went through your bloody mind to make you want to do something so stupid, you bugger.” he exclaimed, the worry and frustration bubbling up. “Alright, I get Gally’s annoying as hell when he wants to be, but you’re a bit brighter than that, yeah?” he rambled on. He sat back down, leaning in close to the other boy. “Got me all worried, all right.”

And Thomas beamed at the other boy. “You care, then.”

Newt snorted in response. “Of course I bloody ca “

And then Thomas yanked him by his sweater, curling fingers through his hair and pressing his lips against the blond’s, who merely yelped in return. It took him a second to respond to the kiss, but a second to late as Thomas pulled back.

"Oh, you meant you cared for me as in shit.” Thomas’s eyes went wide with panic, and Newt out right laughed in return, crawling over his friend. He leaned forward, pushing Thomas to lay down as he kissed down his jaw, around his neck, and on his collarbone. The little noises were brilliant, and he didn’t want them to stop.

"Bloody shuck-face." he mumbled, not able to pull away. "Of course neither of us knew, brilliant pair we are." he muttered. He rambled similar things as his mapped the boy’s body, until eventually Thomas pushed him upright.

"We’re alright, then." he confirmed, face flushed as he rested his hands on the waist on the other’s hips. Newt chuckled.

"Good that." he muttered, leaning in for another kiss when Thomas jerked back, looking at the now-opened door.

"Forget Prom, you two shucks are on your bloody honeymoon." Minho laughed, before he turned on his heel to walk away. Newt carefully got off of Thomas after that, both their cheeks red.

"So, today at four?" Thomas asked. Newt nodded.

"Good that."

And it goes without saying that they didn’t just study. You would probably find the two of them simply lying there, fingertips touching. Or when they did work, one of them sat behind the other, hands running up the other’s shirt and lips pressed to their necks whispering the prettiest things. And once Thomas’s leg healed up, he joined as a runner, and Newt yelled only when Thomas needed it, because otherwise, his mouth was full with the best spaghetti to grace this earth. It was all worth it, without a doubt,

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a lil kudos if ya liked it, ya buggers  
> also remember that I will love u forever if you send me a prompt ok mcallmescotty everyone


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